Chapter Fourteen: A New Path

There is a saying: immortals and gods follow their hearts and desires. In the past, Chen Yu was free to follow his heart, yet he had no desires. But now, as he stands upon the path of discourse, he finds himself awakening to a faint understanding. What he seeks is not mere knowledge, but the pursuit of it. It is exploration.

"To be frank, I'm just terribly curious," Chen Yu chuckled inwardly, giving himself a rather accurate assessment. In truth, he thoroughly enjoyed the gradual process of probing and making sense of novel things; compared to other pursuits, the investigation of the unknown always held its own allure.

Ever since he cultivated spiritual energy, new marvels continually appeared. He still remembered the vision he set for himself long ago—to carve out a new path by his own hand. In this world, true immortals scarcely existed, but that mattered little to him; he would be the one to arrive.

With ingenuity and spiritual energy, anything was possible.

Exhaling softly, Chen Yu pulled his thoughts back from their wanderings and steadied his mind. Now that he knew what he liked to do, he resolved to see it through to the end.

The spiritual energy and its refinement could wait until he returned to the mountain; there were too many eyes below, and it was inconvenient. Mental strength, however, unlike the breath of the womb, could be pondered anytime, anywhere—completely unseen and untouchable by others.

Thus, Chen Yu set himself a small goal: to master both in the shortest possible time.

The immediate challenge was the art of summoning the spirit, but fortunately, last night, inspired by a torrent of insights, he had made considerable progress. Now, his control over his mental strength had greatly improved.

As for the other, repeated experimentation had led him to several conjectures. By unraveling the mysteries bit by bit, much of the enigma had faded.

"The breath of the womb..."

This power, once called the secret force, had always dwelled in his lower abdomen. Though he could not be sure whether it was truly the 'elixir field,' its location was close enough, so he treated it as such.

Just like the spiritual energy born from his root of primordial spirit, names were given on a whim, simply because they roughly matched the descriptions in the classic texts.

Yet, there were notable differences.

Chen Yu recalled that the Daoist scriptures offered many explanations for the elixir field of the breath of the womb. He had not read much, but even the single volume of Broad Clouds Discourse recorded four distinct versions. In this life, each major Daoist school, lineage, and temple had its own tradition.

But in general, they all shared a common point: the elixir field was regarded as the foundation of human life, and the breath of the womb symbolized the act of breathing into the elixir field.

Some Daoist texts referred to it as 'snoring in the belly,' signifying profound attainment of the Dao.

Others described it as a return to infantile innocence—a mark of achieving the innate state.

Undoubtedly, his own breath of the womb was likely not the same as those described.

Nevertheless, that did not prevent him from drawing inspiration.

If he was to forge a new path, mistakes were inevitable. Chen Yu chose several theories he favored, ones that seemed relatively safe.

Perhaps those predecessors had only spoken offhand, but he found their ideas creative and planned to try them out—such as 'the elixir field receives the true elixir,' 'the qi nurtures the seed of the Dao,' and the legendary twelve primary meridians and myriad channels of the martial world. They had always been mere rumor, but he could experiment.

If errors occurred, at worst he would lose some 'breath of the womb' and mental strength—no major issue.

After all, the elixir field he spoke of was not truly located in the abdomen, nor did it involve flesh and organs.

Moreover, he had spiritual liquid on hand; though it could not cure all ailments, it sufficed for emergencies.

"It does feel like I'm making myself up as I go," he sighed, letting himself indulge in his wild thoughts, and recalled the recently opened 'palace of the mud pill' in his mind.

To this day, he had not found any trace of the 'other eight palaces' mentioned in the scriptures.

Nor could he keep them fresh, lacking any of the wondrous signs described in the books.

Thus, it was likely another counterfeit, not the true 'mud pill.' But then he thought, whether the real mud pill existed was still uncertain, and if the elixir field could be experimented with in so many ways, so could his mud pill.

Perhaps, he mused, he could use mental strength to mold a miniature Chen Yu within it.

Then, it would truly become the 'palace of the mud pill.'

After all, even the 'primordial spirit' would reside there.

He shook his head—such things were far off. At present, he could barely control half of his mental strength, just a few thin wisps, less than the tip of a finger when condensed.

But with the art of summoning the spirit gaining momentum, he believed he would soon master it.

...

The grand discourse continued. Chen Yu chose several groups that piqued his interest, listening as though he were back in his previous life, selecting elective classes.

Listen more, ask more, feign less.

When it came to reading Daoist classics, he was outclassed by nearly everyone here, save for a few unaffiliated wanderers. Even if he squeezed out all the ink in his belly, it would not amount to much.

And not everyone was named Jiang Qin'an.

Most Daoists were disciplined, paying little mind to outlandish or startling remarks.

Fortunately, Chen Yu had no intention of relying on dramatic statements to make a name for himself—that would be foolish.

True, he remembered many fragments of Daoist classics from his former life, most of them highly philosophical.

But so what? This was reality. Which Daoist present at the discourse had not read at least a couple of scriptures? Did he really think a few disconnected phrases would win them over?

Chen Yu certainly did not.

Besides, what benefit was there in winning them over? Was being a big shot truly joyful? For now, being a diligent student was far more useful.

He always possessed self-awareness and would not seek unnecessary attention. He simply recorded the various opinions, inspirations, and ideas thrown out at the conference, tried to understand them, but felt no need to delve too deeply.

He knew very clearly that all he wanted were the Daoists’ insights and thoughts on cultivation.

That was all.

Still, with his enhanced memory and comprehension thanks to mental strength, he left an impression on many of those present.

[A diligent and inquisitive young Daoist]

As Chen Yu listened more, he sometimes offered his own thoughts, drawing further attention to himself.

Gradually, people began to discuss him in hushed tones—inquiring about his background or expressing approval and optimism. Yet most remained focused on the discourse; the ripples were minor, and Chen Yu himself remained unaware.

At noon, a vendor pushing a wooden cart arrived by the grove, selling pancakes, melons, eggs, buns, steamed bread, and even dried meat and roast chicken.

A teahouse sent staff carrying buckets filled with tea to the edge of the grounds, though they were stopped by constables.

After all, this was a major event renowned throughout Guangyong Prefecture, and since the Zhengyuan Temple provided a generous amount of 'transcendent silver' to both the county magistrate and the prefectural governor each year, the authorities showed respect and dispatched constables to surround the ritual site.

Outside, layer upon layer, the crowd was packed with common folk.

Chen Yu saw it too—the scene was truly lively. Had he not walked the nearly two hundred miles of dirt road on foot, he might have believed the world outside was still peaceful and prosperous.